I heard the song of breath Go up from city and country, The even breath of the sleeper, The tired breath of the sick, The dry cough in the throat Of the man with the death-sweat on him, And the quiet monotone We breathe but do not hear.

The harsh gasp of the runner, The long sigh of power Heaving the weight aloft, The grey breath of the old. Men at the end of strength With their lungs turned lead and fire, Panting like thirsty dogs; A child’s breath, blowing a flame.